Sherlock, a Godfather?
by thegirlpod
Summary: Sherlock gets a letter, informing him that his goddaughter's parents were killed, and will be coming to stay with him and John. Sherlock is not happy about this- his goddaughter, Charlotte, is a teenage girl. At least, he thought she was a teen.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own the show Sherlock. ****I appreciate reviews, and some criticism but no flames please! I hope you like the story.**

July 24, Wednesday

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson sat in the living room of their flat. Sherlock sat in the arm chair in deep thought, with his fingertips pressed together. John went through the mail, sorting his and Sherlock's.

He tried to hand Sherlock his mail, but Sherlock didn't seem to notice, as he was still staring at nothing.

"Sherlock, your mail," John said. He wasn't impatient, because he was used to Sherlock acting this way, but it still bothered him. "Sherlock?"

"I've lost my concentration," Sherlock said, putting his hands down and blinking a few times. He sighed, and took the mail from John. He looked through it, but not very thoroughly. He stopped suddenly, when he noticed an actual letter. He ripped the top, and pulled out a paper and read it.

Dear Mr. Holmes,

Mrs. and Mr. Weather were killed on July 20th, leaving behind your goddaughter, Charlotte Weather. As her godfather, she will be sent to your home in London on the 31st.

Sherlock didn't read anymore. He dropped the letter on the ground, and buried his face in his hands.

"What's wrong, Sherlock?" John asked peering at him.

"Why was I such an idiot?" Sherlock muttered behind his hands.

"Sorry?"

Sherlock looked up, looking paler then usual. "When I was fifteen, a good friend of my family had a daughter. I was asked to become her godfather, and I accepted. What was I thinking?"

"And, why is that bad?" John asked, trying to imagine Sherlock as a godfather.

"She's coming!" Sherlock said, in a high voice. "Her parents died, and she coming!"

John was surprised with Sherlock. He had never reacted this way, to _anything_.

"She's coming?" John repeated. "But- well... alright... Well, you _are_ her godfather," he finally said.

"Yes, but she's at least thirteen now!" Sherlock said. "A teenager girl? Living here?"

"Sherlock, calm down," John said firmly. "We've got to think- where will she sleep?"

"No, no! I can't have her come here!"

"Well, she's coming,"

Sherlock put his fingertips together again, and shut his eyes, sinking into his chair again, apparently thinking.

John was thinking as well, surprised that anyone would ask to have Sherlock as a godfather.

"Perhaps... perhaps we could put a wall and a door halfway in your room-" Sherlock began, opening his eyes. "It's the biggest room, and, and..."

"Yes, that's a good idea," John said before Sherlock started panicking again. "We could hire someone to do that, it can't cost to much."

"No... It's just a wall and a door... Just a wall and a door..." Sherlock sighed, then stood up. "And furniture? Does she need furniture?"

"Of course she does- maybe just a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand will do," John said.

"Idiot," Sherlock said to himself. "Idiot, idiot, that's what I was,"

"It will be okay Sherlock, don't worry!" John said, but he was still worried himself.

**A/N: This chapter is a short, and I'm sure, confusing, but the next chapters should be explained, and longer.**


	2. Chapter 2

July 31, Wednesday

Charlotte looked out the window of the plane she was in. The window was splattered with rain, but she could see the bright lights of London as the plane came to land.

She had been able to get a plane ticket from her parent's money, and some for food and taxi rides on the trip, but the rest went to her godfather Sherlock.

Charlotte had never actually met him before. Her parents had told her about him, and he was her godfather, but she had only seen a picture of him when he was sixteen. Now he would be at at least twenty-eight.

The plane began to land, and Charlotte gathered her things, as the pilot began to speak to everyone in the plane, about 'welcome to London' and 'please stay seated' and everything else.

Charlotte had been to London only once before, and she had only been three year old then. She and her parents had lived out in the mountains by themselves, Charlotte had been taught school at home, and they went shopping once a month for everything they would need. Life would be very different in London. A big city, without her parents, possibly a public school?

She made her way out of the crowded plane, and into the airport. Charlotte found her luggage, and pulled all of her things out of the airport. It was still raining, but she didn't mind getting wet. She saw quite a few taxis driving slowly around the airport, and she called for one.

A taxi parked by her, and got out to help her with her luggage. She climbed into the backseat with her bag, while her two suitcases were in the trunk.

"And where will you be needing to get this morning, miss?" the cabbie asked as he got into the car.

"Um, 221B Baker Street," Charlotte said.

The car began to drive out of the airport, and Charlotte watched out the window with a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach.

When her parents had been killed, she was surprised and sad. And yet, she had never cried once since they died. She did love them, but crying never helped her. In fact, as she thought more about it, it seemed the only time she had really cried was when she was an infant really.

"Am I allowed to ask why you're coming to London?" the driver asked her.

"I'm coming to see my godfather," Charlotte said.

"Why?"

_Idiot. No adult with me, two large suitcases, going to see my godfather? _Charlotte thought.

"Well, that's how it works. Your parents die, no other family, where else to go then your godfather, right?" Charlotte said, in slighty rude tone.

The driver was silent now, and said no more during the drive.

After a fifteen minute drive, the car came to a stop at an apartment building.

"Here we are, miss. 221B Baker Street." the driver said. He and Charlotte got out of the car, and the driver helped Charlotte get her luggage.

"Alright, how much do you need?" Charlotte asked, pulling out her wallet with the money she was able to keep in it.

"Thirteen pounds, miss," Charlotte handed him the money, then he got in the taxi, and drove off again.

Charlotte tucked her wallet in her pocket again, put her bag over her shoulder, and took a suitcase in each of her hands. She saw the numbers and letter on the door in front of her. 221B.

She walked up the steps, and knocked three times on the door. Charlotte tucked her hair behind her ear, like she did when she was nervous.

She heard a little bit of shouting, and then someone opened the door. She looked up into the face of a tall pale man, with a mop of black hair, and pale blue eyes staring at her intently and looking irritated. Charlotte didn't know what to say, so she just stared back, turning pink.

"You're Charlotte," the man finally said.

"Yes," Charlotte said. "I am."

"I am Sherlock Holmes," he said and he held out his hand.

Charlotte shook it, and nodded. "Yes, I know."

He squinted at her, as if trying to read her mind, and Charlotte looked away, feeling uncomfortable.

"Well, I suppose you'll have to come in, won't you?" he sighed. Then Charlotte heard someone yell "Sherlock!"

Sherlock moved out of the way and let Charlotte in. She did walk in, and saw a shorter man in there. He looked at her warmly, and smiled.

"Hello, you must be Charlotte!" he said. Charlotte wanted to smile back at him, but she found that she couldn't. "I'm John Watson," he said.

"Hello, you're Sherlock's flatmate then?"

"Yes, how did you know?" John asked, looking slightly surprised.

"I didn't know, I kind of noticed. There's a pair of shoes over there, but clearly not Sherlock Holmes' size _or_ style," she said. "And if you were a guest, you wouldn't leave your shoes lying around in someone's home."

"Well, I suppose I wouldn't," John said looking amused.

Sherlock shut the door, and Charlotte met his eyes again.

"Hmm... Deducing, are you?" He asked slowly.

"I, um... I don't know," Charlotte said, and Sherlock smiled slightly, but it wasn't a warm smile like John, more like one where he knew something Charlotte didn't.

"John, you'd better show her where everything is- by the way, Charlotte," Sherlock said. "Don't touch anything, that isn't yours."

John glared at him, and Sherlock cleared his throat slightly.

"If you wouldn't mind,"

"Oh, right, of course I won't," Charlotte said, with a nod.

"Good," Sherlock said curtly. Then he walked into what appeared to be a extremely cluttered kitchen.

"I'll show you you're room then Charlotte," John said.

"Thank you," Charlotte said, and she followed John into a room.

"I'm really sorry, but to get to your room you'll have to go through mine," John said frowning at the bedroom. "We had to put in a wall halfway, so you could have a room. I usually change in the bathroom anyway, and I'll keep my bedroom clean,"

"That's alright, I'm sorry for making you and Sherlock have to make room for me- you were probably quite busy with your work," Charlotte said.

"No, no! We're happy to have you. Even if Sherlock doesn't act it, he is please you're here," John said. Maybe a slight white lie. "Sorry about him, he's quite a character. He's brilliant, but sometimes he can be rather rude without realizing,"

"I understand that very much, actually," Charlotte said as John let her into her room.

"It's small, I know. Sorry about that- but you've got a lock on your door, a bed, dresser, and a nightstand there," John said.

"It's very nice, thank you so much," Charlotte said. John helped her put her luggage on her bed.

"Well, you can unpack if you'd like," John said. "Are you hungry? By the way, the bathroom is right next to this room."

"I know- and no, I'm not hungry, thank you John," Charlotte said, truthfully grateful for him.

"Well, I'll let you unpack..." John said, and he backed out of the room and shut the door.

When he was gone, Charlotte sat on her bed next to her suitcases, and bag.

She looked around her new room. Her new home. With a new family. A new town. A new life.

**A/N: I enjoyed writing this chapter, and it came out much longer then I expected so I'm pleased with it. I hope you are too!**


	3. Chapter 3

**July 31, Wednesday**

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

John stared at Sherlock, who sat at the kitchen table looking into his microscope.

"Well, what do you think of Charlotte?" John said.

Sherlock didn't reply at once, but he frowned.

"Well..." he looked up slowly. "She seems to be smart- she was able to figure out that you are my flatmate, but she hasn't smiled yet."

"She just lost her parents," John said.

"Yes, but she's not emotional. Not sad," Sherlock put his finger tips together, and his elbows on the table.

"Alright. Well, I think we need to go buy more groceries," John said.

"It was worth a try, John. Have fun," Sherlock said, and he went back to his microscope.

"And don't say anything rude to Charlotte, please," John added. He already had his wallet in this pocket, so he walked out of the flat.

Charlotte shoved her empty suitcases, and bag under her bed after unpacking her things. She took the folder off her bed, and walked out of her room (and John's.)

She tried to be quiet as she walked in the kitchen, but each time she took a step, the floor creaked. She found Sherlock looking into a microscope, deep in thought apparently. She stayed quiet and watched him, not wanting to disturb him.

"Thank you for the silence, but what do you what?" Sherlock suddenly asked, and Charlotte handed him the folder.

"I'm supposed to give this to you. It has my birth certificate and things like that," she said. Sherlock took it, and set it on the table on top of everything else.

Then he looked back at her, looking like he was trying to read her mind again.

Sherlock looked at Charlotte, every detail of her appearance. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, slightly curled at the ends, and it barely reached her waist. Her eyes were hazel. Grey, and dark green and almond shaped, very cold. Her skin was pale, so she probably spent most of her time inside. She wasn't very social, or talkative. Perhaps she doesn't do well with school mates? Or maybe, she doesn't have any. She was small, thin and short. Her figure was frail, and looked fragile. Like one push would make her break into a million pieces, but her expression was stern, cold, and fierce. Her clothes were slightly to large for her, and it seemed she didn't wear make up or try to fix her hair.

"You deduced that John Watson was my flatmate," Sherlock said after a few minutes of staring.

"I suppose I did," Charlotte replied quietly.

"Can you deduce anymore?"

"I don't know,"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Shall I deduce a few things for you then?"

Charlotte didn't reply, but frowned.

"You were raised by your parents away from any city, so you didn't go to a public school. Your parents taught you, so you don't have much social skill. You don't care much of your appearance, because you're usually just with your parents. You're left handed. You write stories- usually fantasy it seems. You enjoy reading. Reading is import to you because you have no friends-"

Charlotte cut in, looking hurt.

"Stop," she said. And Sherlock did stop, looking at Charlotte. He felt a small pang of guilt, and was surprised at it. He cleared his throat, and turned away from Charlotte. He looked into his microscope, and Charlotte walked back to her room.

She sat on her bed and put her head into her hands, trying to think. _Forgive him, forgive him. He's just being a show off_ she thought, remembering John had said he could be rude.

She exhaled, and stayed on her bed for a long time.

Later, she heard a knock at her door. She opened the door, and was glad to see John.

"Hi Charlotte, can I come in?"

"Yeah," She opened the door for him, and he walked in the small space.

"Here, I bought you a wastebasket, and an alarm clock," John said, placing a wastebasket near her nightstand. "Sorry, there's only one outlet so we'll have to put your alarm clock on the dresser," John said plugging the alarm clock in.

"Thank you, very much," Charlotte said. "Did you get permission to build a wall in here, by the way? From your landlord?"

"Ah, well, yes. See, Sherlock helped her out with her husband, and uh- well, she let's us get away with a few things," he said smiling slightly.

"I see," Charlotte said, nodding.

"Great, I um, well... See you," he said awkwardly, and he backed out of the room. When the door shut, it was opened again at once.

"You should eat. You haven't eaten since you've been here, you're probably-"

"Actually, no I'm fine," Charlotte sighed. "The human body can go a few days without food, and we only live so long anyway."

"Oh- uh... Okay," John said, nodding. "Well... yeah, I guess so. But tonight we'll go eat,"

"Okay," Charlotte said. John smiled, and closed the door again.

* * *

**July 31, Wednesday *5:47PM***

Charlotte walked out of her room, after tying up her green sneakers, and brushing out her hair. John told her they would leave for dinner around six, and she didn't want to be a bother by getting ready at the last minute. She had stayed in her room all day, feeling uncomfortable walking about the house.

She walked out her bedroom door, and found John sitting on his bed, tying his own shoes up.

"Hello Charlotte!" he said happily. He finished tying up his shoes, and jumped up.

"Hello," Charlotte said, walking towards the door, John following behind her.

Sherlock was sitting in the dark living room, sunk in his chair, with his hands pressed together, and his eyes closed.

John glanced at Charlotte, and then looked at Sherlock. "Sherlock?" he said quietly.

"Dammit," Sherlock muttered. "Why, John? Why do you do this to me?"

"It's time to go," John said.

"Actually, you said we'd leave about six. It's five fifty," Sherlock said standing up.

John looked annoyed, and sighed. "Well, go get some shoes on. You've got ten minutes."

Sherlock threw him a look of annoyance, and went to his bedroom. Five minutes later he came back, wearing shoes, his long black overcoat, and scarf.

He and John walked by each other, both quietly talking. Charlotte walked behind them, as they walked down the stairs and out the door, paying no attention to what they were saying.

When they walked outside, it was surprisingly chilly for the summer time. John waved for a taxi, and purposefully had Sherlock sit in the middle of the backseat. Sherlock got in after John, and Charlotte after Sherlock.

Charlotte closed the cab door, then scooted as far away from Sherlock as she could, and looked out the window. She turned off the noises around her. John telling the driver where they were off to, the traffic, rain gently drumming on the window.

Suddenly she heard Sherlock and John muttering to each other, then Sherlock looked at Charlotte after rolling his eyes at John. He cleared his throat.

"Charlotte, what can you tell me about.. let's see.. that woman in front of us?" he asked.

Charlotte looked at the car in front of them, with a woman who was looking at herself in the mirror.

"She's in her late teens, probably eighteen or seventeen, it looks like. She's messing with her hair, so maybe she's trying to make a good impression..." Charlotte paused, thinking. "She could be going on a date or an interview for a job. But more likely a date, because she doesn't look very professional. She's using her own car, and looks very decent, so maybe a first date? Because her date was already her boyfriend, she wouldn't be trying to impress him as much. So, she's going on one of her first dates, I guess," Charlotte trailed off.

Sherlock smiled slightly. "Not bad... for a teenage girl," he added quietly looking ahead.

"Actually, I'm still only twelve. You didn't look through that folder, did you?" Charlotte asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sherlock didn't answer, but Charlotte didn't say anything either, because the taxi had just stopped. They got out of the cab, and John paid the driver. Then they all walked into the restaurant.

**A/N: I don't really know about this chapter. Some things I like- some I'm like... Eh... Well, Charlotte's a deducer. (Yeah, deducer. Sure it's a word.) I figured she's not as good at Sherlock, but better then John.**


	4. Chapter 4

They sat at a table, and a waiter came over, a teenage girl chewing gum and looking very grumpy.

"Here are some menus," she said handing them each a card. "And water... I'll be back later to take your order," she walked away after sighing loudly.

Sherlock looked over the table at Charlotte.

"Tell me about our waiter," he said. John looked happy that Sherlock was connecting with his goddaughter. Even if it was having her show her intelligence.

Charlotte quietly cleared her throat. "Erm- I don't know."

Sherlock stared at her for a minute, then he looked out the window.

"Yes you do," he said quietly.

Charlotte looked at the table uncomfortably. John cleared his throat, and gave a slight glare to Sherlock, who mouthed 'What?'

"So.. Charlotte," John said. "What do you like to do?"

"I like to read," Charlotte said quietly, looking up.

There was an awkward silence and Charlotte began tapping her fingers slowly.

"Perhaps we should leave," Sherlock said lowly. Just then the same teenager waiter had come over and scowled at Sherlock.

"Can I take your order?" She said sharply.

"No, we're leaving," Sherlock said and he stood up.

"Sherlock!" John groaned, but Sherlock was already walking out the door. Charlotte stood up and went after him. John had no choice but to run after them, after apologizing to the waiter he said nothing.

Charlotte and John went outside to find Sherlock had already left.

"Don't worry about him, he does this a lot," John sighed. He hailed a taxi, and they got in. "I'm really sorry about this," John said when they got in.

"It's alright, I really don't mind," Charlotte said, emotionless.

The said nothing else for the ride back to 221b Baker Street, but Charlotte was thinking quite a few things. Sherlock really was a strange type, but she was already growing fond of him- despite his mysteriousness and rude remarks.

They finally reached the flat, and Charlotte got out of the cab as soon as it stopped. She went straight to the door without John, but only to find it locked. She sighed and waited for John, really wanting to just get to bed. After an eternity John made it to the door. He unlocked it, and Charlotte hurried up the steps and into the flat. Sherlock was not there, so she expected him to be upstairs in his bedroom. She went to her own room, and locked the door.

Charlotte only took her shoes off before climbing into bed. She put her head under her pillow and pulled the only blanket she had been able to bring up to her chin.

It was a while, but later she was finally able to fall asleep.

**A/N: I'm sorry! This is late, and short! The next chapter will be good _and_ long. Sorry again :(**


	5. Chapter 5

She was under attack. It was dark, there were guns firing, Sherlock, John, and both her parents lay on the ground dead. A gun was aimed at her own head. _Bang!_

Charlotte eye's flew open as she gasped. It took her a minute or two to realize she was perfectly fine, still in bed at her Godfather's home. She breathed deeply, and she was still panicked by her nightmare. Then she heard a noise. She sat up slowly, and began to wring her hands. Nothing scared her. Nothing at all- except death. She wasn't sure why. Her parents always taught her that if she was good when she died, she would go to heaven. But Charlotte couldn't quite make herself believe that.

Her heart pounded against her chest as she listened to the noise. It was music. Violin? Charlotte looked at the clock on the dresser. It was nearly three in the morning. She got out of bed, unable to go back to sleep with the music playing. She was much to curious, but couldn't get the nightmare out of her head either.

She went as quietly as she could past John's room, and into the sitting room. Then, she saw Sherlock. He was standing in the sitting room, playing violin, with his back on her. Charlotte leaned against the back of a chair watching Sherlock play.

Listening to him play, was comforting. Charlotte's parents had been very musical as she grew up, and she hadn't heard music in a while. His song wasn't happy, nor sad. A little mysterious. Like Sherlock himself.

Sherlock went on playing, finished the song, and lowered his bow. He turned around and looked at Charlotte.

"You play very nicely," was all Charlotte could say. Sherlock didn't respond. "My father used to play violin as well,"

Sherlock nodded, already knowing this but she continued talking. "My mother would sing-"

"and you would play piano," Sherlock said. It was not a question, he already knew. But how? And Charlotte asked.

"Your hands. It doesn't take _Sherlock Holmes_ to figure that out," Sherlock said smiling, his strange smile.

Charlotte looked at her fingers. It had been so long since she heard music, yes, but even longer since she had played it.

"You miss playing, don't you?" Sherlock asked. Charlotte nodded without looking up. Another long silence filled the room, and Charlotte just wanted Sherlock to keep playing. But she couldn't find herself able to say it.

"I- I am sorry, if I have been, uh, rude. I just find myself much more advanced then then everyone else, so-" Sherlock broke off. It seemed it was difficult for him to be saying this.

"It's fine, really," Charlotte said. "Anyway, you are much more advanced then anyone," she said and a small smile came onto her face, surprising both Sherlock, and herself. "Would you mind- would you mind, well, continuing?" Charlotte asked, embarrassed.

Sherlock gave a nod, and went on playing the same song. Again, Charlotte felt comforted by the music, and she sat down feeling drowsy. She slowly drifted off as Sherlock went playing still.

* * *

Sherlock finished playing, and found Charlotte had fallen asleep in the chair she had been leaning against minutes before. It took him a while to realize, he was smiling. Truly he did not care for the girl. He was a guardian, nothing else. And yet, he had grown a little fond of the girl in merely a few hours. It confused him.

He put his violin down, and the bow, and began to walk to his room. But he stopped when he reached Charlotte in the chair. He looked down upon her still body, silently sleeping and Sherlock exhaled quietly.

He quickly went to his room and began to go to his mind palace as soon as he sat on the bed.

* * *

August 1st, Thursday

Charlotte woke early. She usually woke early, the latest she woke up was usually eight or seven. She wasn't sure what time it was, so she walked through the quiet flat, to her room. John was still sleeping when she entered his room, so she was careful not to wake him.

Charlotte found her clock saying that it was five forty nine. She dressed into a new outfit for the day, and brushed her out before sticking it in a pony tail. She tied her shoes up, and walked out of her room again exactly at six. John wasn't in his room, so Charlotte went out to find him.

She found John coming out of the bathroom, dressed.

"Good morning Charlotte," John said.

"Good morning," Charlotte said nodding at him.

"Sherlock and I need to go to- uh- _work_," John said.

"I'll be fine," Charlotte said automatically.

"Are you sure?" John asked, but he seemed happy with her answer already, so Charlotte nodded. "We'll only be gone an hour or so, I guess you can wander a bit outside...

Well, Sherlock's leaving now looks like," he said, as Sherlock came in.

"Good morning, Charlotte. Did you sleep well?" Sherlock said, with a small smirk. Charlotte knew he was referring to falling asleep in the armchair that night- while listening to him play his violin.

"Yes, I did. Thank you," Charlotte said, and an exact smirk came upon her face.

John was looking incredulous, and seemed like he wanted to say something, but Sherlock was leaving so he had to hurry off.

"Oh! We have bread, for breakfast!" John called.

"I know!" Charlotte replied, actually deciding she should eat a bit.

"And don't touch anything!" Sherlock added.

There was the creaking noise as Sherlock and John walked down the stairs, then a door shut. Charlotte went into the kitchen at once and sat at the table. She looked at the many papers cluttering the table. Many seemed they had a lot to do with chemistry, with the little learning she had had from her parents. She had been rather curious about what was all about the mess in the kitchen.

Then she stood up and walked towards the fridge. She opened the freezer, and pulled out the ice cube trays to find eyeballs frozen in them. She thought they were probably chicken's eyes.

Charlotte put the tray back, and closed the freezer. She instantly found the bread in a cabinet, and a toaster on the counter. Charlotte ate quickly, then ran to her room. She cleaned it up, but there wasn't much to clean anyway.

She sat on her bed, feeling herself bored once again. Boredom. No, she couldn't be bored. It would drive her mad. Charlotte jumped up again, and walked back to the sitting room. Bookshelf. If she could find a bookshelf.

Instantly, Charlotte went up the second flight of stairs, and found Sherlock's room. As she expected, a bookshelf was near the unmade bed. She scanned the books, looking for something interesting.

But then, a hand was pressed over her mouth. Charlotte found that a cloth had actually been brought to her mouth, drenched in strange chemicals, that caused her to black out.

**A/N: Gee, I don't know if this is really lame by getting to the chase to quickly or really exciting! Anyhow, I really like the beginning of this chapter. I find it cute :3 Please review! It fills me with joy when you do! **


	6. Chapter 6

**I was away from internet for two weeks, so I'm sorry that this couldn't be sooner!  
**

Charlotte became conscious when she felt the ground move beneath her. She left her eyes closed, trying to collect information on where she was and what had happened. She remembered going into Sherlock's room- then someone had knocked her out. Now she was in... a car?

Charlotte's eyelids fluttered open. She was leaning against a cool window, and was indeed in a car. She lifted her head up, and turned to see a brunette woman in the seat beside her, who was glued to a mobile. Charlotte's eyebrows narrowed in a bit of confusion. She couldn't think straight.

"Hello Charlotte," the woman said without looking up from the phone.

"Who are you?" was the only question Charlotte was able to ask, for her mind felt cluttered.

"That's not important," the woman said. "You are going to be seeing someone."

"I'm I being kidnapped?" Charlotte asked.

"No, not quite," the woman replied.

"Where is this car going?"

The woman didn't reply, and Charlotte sighed. Then, quite suddenly, the car came to a stop. Charlotte immediately opened the car door and jumped out, she began to run away down the street, but then she heard someone call her name and she stopped abruptly and sighed. She knew exactly who had called her, and Charlotte was not happy at all.

She turned around, and walked back to the car. Standing next to the car, was Mycroft Holmes. Charlotte knew him, because he was always visiting her family when she was younger even though they really did not like him.

"Hello Charlotte, nice to see you again. You've really grown," he said.

"What do you want?" Charlotte asked curtly.

"I make this simple. I want you to stay with me instead of my brother. He's highly to dangerous for a child to be raised there. I could actually protect you instead. I think your parents made a bad decision on whom they trust,"

Charlotte shook her head in disbelief. "You kidnap me so you can 'protect' me? Well, sorry but I think I would rather stay with your brother," she said coldly. "You were always jealous weren't you? Always telling my parents to change their minds!"

"Now Charlotte, you're just a child, you misunderstand me-" Mycroft began hurriedly, but Charlotte interrupted him.

"Take me home!"

"Please, you must see sense. He's too dangerous. I care for him myself but-"

"I don't want to talk to you anymore, take me home!"

"He doesn't even want you to be there, can't you see?" Mycroft's voice was surprisingly calm.

Charlotte gritted her teeth in frustration. Finally, she just decided she would go back to 221B Baker Street. So she turned around and began to run away.

She heard Mycroft call something, but she didn't hear- probably purposefully. She turned away from the street, and went between two buildings. As she began to leave the alley, Charlotte felt a sharp pain in the back of her head, and she collapsed.

* * *

When Charlotte woke, she found herself once again in a car. She looked to her side, but no one was there. A man drove the car, who paid no attention to Charlotte.

"Where are you going?" she asked, and the driver ignored her. "Excuse me? Where is this car going?" the man still didn't answer, and Charlotte folded her arms angrily, finding it frustrated to be ignored. She leaned against the window and shut her eyes trying to figure a few things out.

A few seconds later, the car came to a stop. Charlotte opened her eyes, and saw the car was on Baker Street. She jumped out, and hurried to her godfather's flat's door, 221B. She opened it, and hurried up the stairs to see if John and Sherlock were back yet.

As she walked in the sitting room, she saw John on his mobile phone, and when he saw Charlotte his mouth dropped slightly. "Um, never mind," he said slowly, and he hung up. "Charlotte!"

"Hello," Charlotte said sheepishly.

"'Where have you been?" John asked, obviously trying not to shout. Sherlock walked out of the kitchen, and stood by John looking at Charlotte expressionlessly.

"Your brother wanted to see me, Sherlock," Charlotte said looking at her godfather. "He thinks you're too dangerous for me to be raised here,"

"Of course he does," Sherlock said rolling his eyes.

"What- how did you- why did you see him?" John asked.

"I didn't want to, he just kidnapped me for a few hours so he could tell me I'd be better off living with him. But I think I'd rather be at risk living here," Charlotte said, shrugging slightly.

"He kidnapped you?" John asked.

"Well, sort of... I mean he didn't do any harm to me- well, except when he had someone knock me out by hitting me in the head with, I think, a rock," Charlotte said. "It didn't hurt me though," she added. "Just knocked me out a while,"

"We got home two hours ago, and you weren't here. Maybe we shouldn't leave her home alone anymore," John said to Sherlock.

"She's obviously fine, aren't you Charlotte?" Sherlock said, and Charlotte nodded. "See? Nothing to worry about."

"It wouldn't hurt to take her to St. Bart's tomorrow. Maybe she would be interested in what you do there?" John said quietly, slightly sarcastic but serious as well.

Sherlock didn't reply, but looked down on Charlotte, who looked up at him inquiringly.

An long and awkward silence followed.

"I'll be in my room," Charlotte said, and she left.

John and Sherlock looked at each other. "Well Sherlock, I must say- you're handling this a lot better then when you got the letter."

He and Sherlock chuckled quietly, then Sherlock left to 'play' with his microscope, and John sat in the sitting room, thinking to himself.

**I'm sorry... I'm not pleased with this chapter. It was shorter then I was planning, and it was late. The next chapter will be a while too.. I am so sorry! I'm busy, and trying to write up some new stories at the moment so... **

**Thank you to those who have followed, reviewed, and favorited! It fill's my heart full of joy each time you do so! Seriously!**

**I do not own Sherlock.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm sorry I've been gone forever. At least you had a little warning in the last chapter, right? Heh heh... Anyway, sorry about this chapter. It might seemed rushed because it was. And a little messy. And short. *facepalm* I'm sorry. Try to enjoy! :)**

Charlotte stayed in her bed the next morning. She was angry at herself. When she had left to come to this place, she had planned on not being a big problem or having to be fussed about. And of course, she had to go and get kidnapped.

She sighed loudly when she heard a knock at her door. John.

"Yes?" she called. Honestly, she didn't really want to talk to him, or see him.

"Can I come in?" John asked from behind the door.

It was his flat. "Yes."

The door creaked open. Charlotte stayed where she was.

"Morning Charlotte," John said cheerfully. She managed a smile, then it faded. "I'm so sorry about what happened yesterday."

"It wasn't your fault," John said frowning and coming near her.

"It was. I knew that Mycroft wouldn't approve of me living anywhere besides with my parents or him," Charlotte said, a little angrily.

"Well, it's alright now. Erm, Sherlock and I would like to take you to St. Bart's. I mean, well, where he works a lot," John said.

"Yeah," Charlotte said. "That sounds... interesting..."

"It is... Well, we'll leave in an hour." John seemed to have made up his mind already. He wasn't going to leave Charlotte home again. John smiled slightly, then left the room.

Charlotte got out of bed, and dressed into her usual attire. A white long sleeved shirt, jeans, and her sneakers. She took a brush, but didn't entirely brush her hair. Charlotte put her hair in a pony tail put on her jacket and left her room with her toothbrush and toothpaste.

Sherlock and John were talking in the sitting room, but stopped when they saw Charlotte. She just raised her toothpaste and toothbrush.

"Continue your conversation- just going to brush my teeth," she said with a shadow of a smile on her face. Then she went into the bathroom.

Three minutes later she came back out.

"Excuse me- but Sherlock, I have a question." Charlotte paused a minute making sure she had her godfather's attention. "Why are there toes in the bathtub?"

John's hand went to his mouth in shock, and turned to Sherlock accusingly.

* * *

Charlotte sat in between Sherlock and John in the cab as they drove to St. Bart's. No one said anything. They were all thinking to themselves.

Charlotte was thinking if St. Bart's was going to be as strange as the flat. Maybe. Sherlock did work there didn't he?

The taxi stopped sharply wn they reached a building. They climbed out of the crowded cab.

Charlotte stood a few feet away from John and Sherlock as she had started doing as they went into the place.

She kept her head down, watching her green tennis shoes against the white floor until Sherlock said in a dull voice, "Ah... here we are."

They entered the doors. Charlotte looked up, and nearly gasped. A dead body was laying on a table in the room, and a white cloth lay on it- knees to neck.

She considered asking about it, but figured she probably wouldn't get answered so she stayed quiet.

Then a red headed woman in a lab coat came around the corner, and gasped when she saw Sherlock (she didn't seem to even glance at John and Charlotte.)

"Sherlock! I wasn't expecting you until later," she said quickly, trying to cover up for her shocked gasp.

"Of course," Sherlock muttered quietly, walking to the dead body. Molly seemed to have all her attention on Sherlock before she looked over at Charlotte was glancing around the room.

John noticed, and quickly said, "Molly, um, this is Charlotte. She is Sherlock's goddaughter."

"Sherlock has a- Sherlock's a- I mean... Hello, I'm Molly Hooper," Molly said looking a little bewildered, but smiled at Charlotte all the same. Charlotte smiled back.

"Hello," Charlotte replied quietly. "What happened to him?" she asked pointing at the body.

"Oh right-" Molly was about to answer, but Sherlock interrupted.

"Poisoned. But why? And by whom?" he wondered aloud, and went back to the body.

Charlotte frowned, and looked at John who went to stand by Sherlock. No one was paying attention to her now, so Charlotte wandered around a bit. She found a lot of tools- even a riding crop of all things. Papers with a lot of information, and sometimes a lot of numbers all jumbled about. Math. Charlotte hated anything to do with math, it made her sick looking at it.

There was a microscope, pens and pencils scattered around, and small bottles full of who knows what.

"Well, this man was poisoned by his girlfriend. He was cheating on her, she found out, poisoned him in hoping making him sick but instead killing him. More reasons I never had and never will have a girlfriend."

"Oh so Irene Adler is suddenly fictional," John muttered. Sherlock shot him a death glare.

"We've been through this before John," He said darkly.

There was an odd silence, before Molly looked at Charlotte, then at Sherlock and said "Are children allowed in here?"

"Well, no one has stopped us yet," Sherlock replied before going to a counter and looking down at the papers.

Molly walked over to Charlotte hesitantly.

"Is Sherlock really you're godfather?" she asked quietly. Charlotte nodded, and Molly looked surprised again. "Wow." was all she said.

Another long silence followed.

"Anyone up for lunch?" John asked.

"John, it's ten thirty," Sherlock said quietly without looking up.

"Alright, brunch then?"

"We just got here," Charlotte said quietly.

"Yes, and we're leaving again," Sherlock said.

"Wh-what?" Molly said. "But, you just got here!" she repeated Charlotte.

"Yes, and I don't think I'm really interested in this 'case'. Don't think I should have come,"

"Would you and John like to get coffee with me? A-and Charlotte to, I mean," Molly quickly spluttered.

"Yes, would, wouldn't we Sherlock?" John said looking inquiringly at Sherlock, who sighed.

"Fine," he said. They looked at Charlotte, who shrugged.

A few minutes they were out the door, Sherlock and John leading.

Charlotte looked up at Molly.

"Did you change your lipstick?" Charlotte asked.

Molly blushed and didn't reply.

"You fancy Sherlock?" Charlotte asked. Molly smiled slightly when Charlotte said Sherlock.

"Don't be silly," Molly said quickly and smiled at Charlotte. Charlotte slyly smiled back.


End file.
